Tough Little Boys
by Phaser Lady
Summary: Chapter 5-finally! What would Trip and T'Pol be like as parents? Little snippets...
1. Big brothers

Title: "Tough Little Boys"  
  
Author: Phaser Lady  
  
Rating: G-right now, shouldn't get too much worse.  
  
Summary: Trip as a father on special occasions. Flash backs to childhood too. T/T, Trip-centric  
  
Codes: Trip/T'Pol, Trip-centric  
  
Archive: Just get in touch with me first, so I know where I am.  
  
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise doesn't belong to me, nor do the songs of Allan Gary. But just because I don't own them doesn't mean I can't have my way with them...  
  
"Tough Little Boys"  
  
Chapter 1  
  
"Hey guys, check it out! Little Lizzie Tucker's gots new hair bows!"  
  
"Yeah, doesn't she look cute in her pigtails? Her mommy made sure she looked pretty for school today."  
  
"Hey Connor, betcha' I could swing her 'round by 'em."  
  
The boys laughed at their own cleverness as kindergartener extraordinaire Elizabeth Louise Tucker came into the schoolyard. At three foot one and a quarter and hair up in curly blonde pigtails, she was the epitome of innocence and weakness. It also didn't help that she'd had a fight with Carly and Samantha yesterday, and so had had to walk to school alone. Naturally, the Three Thugs had chosen today to harass every lone person who came to school. Thugs had a tendency to be big and husky; these three were no exception. And they weren't just huge from Lizzie's point of view. Connor Jackson, Billie Hogan, and Lester Demermeyer were huge. It was quite easy to mistake them for seventh graders, at the very least.  
  
But Lizzie, ever bold and cocky despite her age, not to mention pretty darned mad at the moment, was in no mood to let them bully her. Throwing back her shoulders and holding her head up high, Lizzie stuck out her tongue at the enormous sixth graders. Then, she proceeded to walk past them, not giving them another glance. At least, that was what she meant to do, until Lester shoved her from behind, sending her to the ground and covering her favorite pink bunny shirt. The wind knocked out of her, Lizzie lay on the ground for a moment, eyes tearing. First Carly, and now she was getting hurt by big kids and getting her favorite shirt ruined. It was picture day! She wanted to look nice. Now it was all ruined. Fighting the tears, she pushed herself up and got her knapsack on again.  
  
"Oh look, tough little Lizzie Tucker's crying 'cause she got pushed."  
  
"Poor baby, run home to yer mommy. She can fix your hair again."  
  
That one hurt. Her Mommy had fixed her hair today. In fact, she'd gotten up extra early because Lizzie asked her too, even though she had worked late the night before and it was Daddy's turn to get the kids up. The tears started coming, and she was powerless to stop them. That only sent the Thugs into another round of laughter. Lizzie clenched her fists, refusing to let the sobs come out. Granddad always taught her to act towards others like you want them to act towards you. She never did anything to them, so why were they being mean to her? She had actually given them the occasional smile, when she wasn't glaring at them for being mean to the other kids.  
  
"Ya big bullies!" she suddenly screamed. "Yer' so mean! Look what ya did to ma favorite shirt!" This proclamation only sent the Thugs into more peals of laughter. Connor walked up to her, and, looking down, said something that scared her.  
  
"Ah'd be careful, Lizzie Tucker. You look awfully pretty with those pigtails, Ah wouldn't want to have to cut 'em off with ma pocket knife."  
  
Lizzie shrank away, fearful. She had no doubt that Connor had a knife with him. And she had no doubt that he would cut off her curls too. Then what would she do? Mommy always loved to play with her hair, brushing it and braiding it. Mommy would be so mad at her if her hair got cut off. Connor took another step towards her, and she froze in dread. She saw his hand go to his pocket-  
  
"Get yer hands away from ma sister!" yelled a juvenile voice. The Thugs and Lizzie looked up to see a boy with the same wavy blonde hair, breathing hard, standing about ten feet away. There was no denying the anger in his face. The two boys started to laugh from behind Connor.  
  
"Hey look, it's Charlie 'The Trip' Tucker. Careful Connor, he might try to push you and fall on your feet instead." Once again, the boys rolled with laughter at their own joke. Charlie blushed. It wasn't his fault he was clumsy sometimes. He hadn't meant to fall and send the frog parts all over himself and the science lab floor. Biting back a retort, he walked over to his sister, placing himself between her and Connor. He'd followed Lizzie from a discrete distance, all the way to school. He'd seen what was going on, but couldn't get across the street fast enough.  
  
Connor chuckled to himself. "Uh oh, The Trip's gonna get me now guys!" Billie and Lester clutched at their midsections, aching with glee.  
  
"Well at least Ah didn't flunk the Plants test. Ah dunno how anyone could mess up on the lifecycle of a seed." Charlie shot back. Lester and Billie howled with laughter, but Connor turned crimson.  
  
"Shut up!" he yelled. "Don't you go talking about that, 's none of yer business!"  
  
"Oh, an' Ah guess the 'D' ya' got in basic algebra isn't either?"  
  
By this time, Billie and Lester were on the ground, rocking back and forth.  
  
"Ah said SHUT UP!" Connor screamed. And the next thing Charlie knew, a fist connected with his jaw. He saw stars, but was able to avoid knocking Lizzie down too.  
  
"Charlie!" Lizzie screamed. But he was already pushing himself up. Standing, he put a hand to his jaw, feeling a bruise forming already. He brushed himself off, and then got right back up in Connor's face, but he didn't throw a punch in return. Infuriated, Connor rammed his other fist into Charlie's midsection, causing Charlie expel his breath with a giant "whoosh." He fell back, completely winded and shocked. The burst of pain was surprising in it's intensity. He felt like crying, or at least curling up for a minute. But instead he grinned (it was better to make bullies real mad when there were adults around, than to ask them to stop) and pulled his sister behind him. He wasn't going to let anything happen to his baby sister, and by now he could see two teachers hurrying over. One grabbed Connor around the torso so he couldn't make anymore hits, while the other one checked the Tucker kids for injuries.  
  
Charlie fixed the grin on his face and quickly rubbed his eyes to clear them of tears. He piped down his smug attitude at seeing Connor Jackson finally caught in the act of bullying, and told his side of the story with no overly emotional outbursts (for a sixth grader, of course). Lizzie's hand was in his the entire time, and he gave it a squeeze every now and then for support. Connor was escorted to the principal's office (guaranteed a few days suspension at least) followed by Lester and Billie, most likely receiving an after school detention for bullying.  
  
Now, without anyone to see him, Charlie let himself rub at his bruised jaw and midsection. But then he looked down into the bright, adoring eyes of his little sister, and all of his hurt went away. She dazzled him with a brilliant smile, and he could feel a real grin coming to his face. Lizzie and Charlie loved each other dearly, and were fiercely protective of each other. There was no doubt about it. But by unspoken agreement, both tended to shy away from open displays of their affection at school. They wanted to have their own friends, not be labeled as a brother-sister pair. So it came as a great-and welcome-surprise when Lizzie launched herself at her brother's midsection and gave him a great big huge. Charlie winced, but ignored the pain as he dropped down to give her a more proper hug.  
  
"Thanks Charlie." She whispered. He only smiled into her silky blonde curls.  
  
"Any time Elizabeth."  
  
"Ah love ya'"  
  
"Love ya' too."  
  
Charlie had then cleaned up his baby sister (including fixing her pigtails), and on that day, her big brother had escorted Lizzie to class; and far from excluding her, she had been the envy of her classmates. After all, none of them had brothers who protected them and fixed their pigtails for them.  
  
//Well I never once//  
  
Backed down from a punch//  
  
Well I'd take it square on the chin//  
  
Well I found out fast//  
  
A bully's just that//  
  
You've got to stand up to him//  
  
So I didn't cry when I got a black eye//  
  
As bad as it hurt, I just grinned//  
  
* * *  
  
Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker smiled to himself. He remembered that day he first defended Lizzie at school. They'd always been close, but after that, there had been no denying her - anything. And she, in turn, supported him in everything; pretty fair trade. When he remembered the look on Connor Jackson's face, he still got a chuckle out of it. Trip had caught up with Connor a ways back. He'd been under the employment of Starfleet, actually, as part of one of the maintenance crews. To his amusement- and Lizzie's after he'd called her- Connor had been part of the waste reclamation crew. That had been a few months before Enterprise launched. Trip's smile dimmed as he remembered that it was not long after that he'd seen his sister in person for the last time. After that, it had been only letters and a few sporadic vid conversations, and short ones at that. And next had come...  
  
Whoa Trip, easy there. The Xindi Attack on Earth still had the power to bring back the familiar feelings of hate and anger. And grief, he thought sadly. Lizzie Tucker, his baby sister, had been killed in that attack. Her death had left him numb with grief, then a shattered mess of a man. By the time Enterprise had left Earth, headed for the Delphic Expanse, he'd been an angry shell of what he once was, no longer the cheerful, fun-loving Trip, but the depressed, exhausted, Commander Tucker who clung to his hate and anguish to keep from drowning in a sea of grief.  
  
Those had been dark times in his life, but he'd been lucky; not many people had angels to bring them up from the depths of Hell, but he did. They came in the form of Malcolm, who pushed Trip's buttons and manipulated him into taking out his frustrations on him, of Jon -after he too had dealt with his anger, of Hoshi, who made sure he read all of his mail, of the entire crew, actually. But most importantly, her.  
  
Trip pulled himself from his thoughts, wondering at the turns his life had taken. So many of them were a result of that day, the day he was observing the four-year remembrance of: April 24th, 2153. He continued to ponder the significance of that date, and became lost in his thoughts again. A page from the comm panel brought him back.  
  
"Phlox to Commander Tucker." Trip reacted without thought, thumbing the switch. "Tucker here."  
  
"Commander, you might want to come down to sickbay," said Phlox's overly cheerful voice. Trip was instantly alert.  
  
"Why Doc, what happened?" he asked in a panicked voice.  
  
"Not to worry Commander, the only thing that is happening is the first stage of the wonder of birth."  
  
Trip froze, staring in awe at the comm panel, as though Phlox's face were there instead. "Birth...?" He said in wonderment.  
  
"Yes indeed Commander, birth. Labor began a short time ago, and she has stated that you expressed a wish to be here for the occasion."  
  
His wonderment being replaced by excitement and anticipation, Tucker quickly thumbed off the comm, but not before he heard a patience-tested voice say his name. His full name. His mama had only ever done that when he was in deep. Quickly, he grabbed the gym bag and jogged down the corridor towards the nearest 'lift and Sickbay, running into Malcolm and sending a message with him to the Captain that he was going to be busy for a while.  
  
//But when tough little boys grow up to be dads//  
  
They turn into big babies again.//  
  
* * *  
  
Author's note: Song lyrics from "Tough Little Boys" by Allan Gary. Please review; let me know if you think I should continue. I'd like honest reviews, so if it bored you to death, let me know. Thanks! 


	2. And Then There Were Three

Author's Note: Sorry the update took so long, had some difficulties with my dear computer. See first part for disclaimers.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III, Chief Engineer of the Enterprise NX-01, Ph. D., brother, husband, and friend, had earned a new title: "Dad." At 1430 hours, he could be found in Sickbay beside his sleeping wife, holding his newborn child. T'Lizabeth Marian Tucker had come into the universe five hours ago, weighing approximately 3.514 kilograms (or, as Trip had gushingly proclaimed, seven pounds, eleven ounces in Old English Measure) and having a full head of dark, silk hair. Phlox had satisfied himself with her health, and now she was all Daddy's.  
  
Trip held the soft pink bundle close to his chest, still a bit stunned. Looking down into her tiny face, he was awed by the amount of love he felt. He had prepared himself over the past eight months, listening to stories from his parents and reading articles. But when he first looked down into his daughter's face, the swell of love in him had been almost painful. For all his preparation, he was totally unprepared for the impact one little creature could have on him. Immediately, he became the nervous first time father, anxiously looking over Phlox's shoulder as he examined T'Lizabeth. Jon had teased him the last few months, about turning into a flustered father. He'd brushed it off and laughed along with his friend, thinking there was no way that would ever happen. There was no way some little kid was gonna get him that worked up, not when he could endure Suliban and Xindi attacks in Engineering and stay cool as a cucumber.  
  
Trip laughed inwardly at himself. If he was honest, he had known what his reaction would be all along. How could he react any differently? He was incredibly in love with his wife, and had been thrilled to itty bitty pieces when she'd told him she was pregnant. He'd become her self- appointed servant, refusing to let her do anything beyond what her duties required; even then, there were certain activities he forbade. He'd even gone to the Captain a few times, and had resolutely endured several nights on the couch as punishment. And when he couldn't be found working his duty shifts (and beyond) in Engineering, smothering T'Pol with attention-to the point where she'd kicked him out on occasion-, or working on some piece of baby furniture, he'd been located in front of a computer terminal, or behind a PADD, reading every last bit of information stored in Enterprise's data banks on parenting, babies, or Vulcan traditions. (Well, most of the knowledge he had on the last topic had come from Enterprise's resident Vulcan or Kov-he'd kept in regular contact with the guy, even after Tolaris.)  
  
Figuring he might as well get all the self-mockery out of his system, Trip allowed himself another pot shot: He'd never in his entire life expected-or wanted- to know as much about Vulcan biology as he did now.  
  
So glad it's not only every seven years-  
  
Hey Trip! Cut that out! Not when yer' holdin' the baby, he admonished himself. In all seriousness, it was true. Through intensely boring lessons with Phlox and long hours of dry reading, he knew about digestive functions, respiration, organ systems-including which ones were different-, differences in musculature and skeletal composition, and all about neural nodes-Vulcan and Human. Although, he thought cheekily, that knowledge had nothing to do with reading.  
  
He was pulled out of his musings by a slight sound from T'Lizabeth. She was fussing a bit, so he held her out in front of him in both hands, thinking she might want to move a bit. She gave a few jerks of her hands, which accomplished nothing since she was wrapped up snugger than two peas in a pod. Unable to communicate her discomfort, T'Lizabeth started to fuss. It was only a few weak guttural noises, but with T'Pol's sensitive hearing, he didn't want her waking up yet. She needed her rest. Labor had lasted for nineteen hours, the birth itself another two. She'd endured it like a real trooper (Trip had gotten away with only a few threats of enforced celibacy.) Hell, some of the time, she'd been more in control than him-and if that wasn't irony, Trip didn't know what was.  
He could recall attacks and firefights where he'd felt helpless, cooped up in Engineering, unable to do anything but tell his people to hold on as they frantically tried to repair the ship, sometimes, it seemed, with nothing more than scotch tape and chicken wire. But he'd never felt quite as helpless and useless, as he felt for the nineteen hours his beautiful wife was in labor, and the two hours she was giving birth. No matter how solid her control might have been at times, Trip only had to look into her eyes to see her pain and exhaustion. He'd of course done everything within his power to help her, but that hadn't been much. And when he'd held her hand, there had been times when he was sure she was really holding his.  
All of that, and she'd still presented him with a wonderful gift. Trip thought the love he felt wasn't enough. He'd just have to be utterly devoted to her for the rest of his life.  
  
He stood up carefully, walking with his daughter to the other end of sickbay. She continued to fuss, and he took pity on her, laying her on a biobed and loosening her blanket. Free of her constraints, T'Lizabeth gave a few experimental kicks with her tiny legs. Trip smiled.  
  
"Hey baby, you're fussy about tight clothing just like 'yer old man. Guess we're gonna have some battles ta' fight there."  
  
Hearing the voice of her father, T'Lizabeth slowly pulled her eyes open. Tucker grinned. Her eyes were blue. Not the coffee brown of her mother's eyes, but blue, like her daddy, like her aunt-her namesake. At that thought, he felt the familiar pull of grief on his heart, but he pushed it away. Not today. Today was a happy day only, none of that grieving stuff. Focusing on brighter thoughts-not too hard with the little angel in front of him- Trip decided it was high time he met his daughter.  
  
"Hiya darlin'. Ma' names Charles Tucker III, but ma' friends call me Trip. And you can call me 'Dad.' Well, whichever form of the word 'ya like. 'Pa,' 'Dad,' 'Daddy,' the Vulcan form I can't say, whatever 'ya like." T'Lizabeth's only response was to gurgle at him a bit, bringing his smile back. He continued on conversationally.  
  
"And as for you, your name is T'Lizabeth Marian Tucker 'cha somethin' I can't even begin to say. Betcha' think a lot of yer' old dad right now, he can't even pronounce yer' name right." He chuckled to himself "Sorry darlin', ma' vocal cords weren't designed with Vulcan in mind. You'll have t' ask yer' mama ta' say that one." She only stared at his face, wide eyed. "Now, yer' mama might call ya 'T'Lizabeth' all the time, but that's a longer name than my loose lipped mouth can handle. 'S it alright if I just call ya' Lizzie?" Here Trip gave his daughter a very serious expression, as though a five-hour old baby could be offended. She only gurgled again, adding a few blinks for good measure, and continued to stare at her father.  
  
"Alright then, it's settled. Lizzie ya' are." He grinned again. Then, unable to resist the urge any longer, he scooped his daughter up, blanket and all, holding her close. Tenderly, he ran his fingers down her face and arm, still amazed by the tiny scale of her fingers. Closer now, Lizzie more thoroughly inspected her daddy's face. Under the penetrating blue gaze, Trip could only grin wider. She was his. His and T'Pol's. After six years putting his aspirations of fatherhood on hold, here was his reward. And what a perfect little reward she was.  
  
Trip felt himself beginning to get misty-eyed. He drew a calming breath, not wanting T'Pol to be disturbed by his overly emotional state. Then, knowing full well how much he'd hated it as a kid, he cuddled his baby girl. He planted kisses all over her tiny face, and snuggled his nose into the tiny bit of dark hair on her tiny little head. Remembering something his paternal grandfather once said, he dipped his head and smelled her breath. Taking a good deep sniff, he recalled exactly what his granddaddy had said.  
  
"Take a good long smell of a baby's breath when they're first born. They haven't eaten anything yet, stomachs are completely empty. So all you can smell is pure life."  
  
He held his breath in for a minute, savoring the sweet, untainted scent of her breath, and then went right on cuddling. Presently, an old song came to his mind, one his great grandmother had been fond of. In a shy- yet clear- tenor, he began.  
  
"Down in the valley, valley so low. Hang your head over, hear the wind blow..."  
  
Trip continued his song and gentle rocking, until Lizzie fell asleep. Her first dreams were filled with the sound of her father's gentle voice.  
  
Author's Note II: I love reviews, let me know what you think. Anything you'd like to see? Thanks for reading! 


	3. Every Child

Author's Note: I finished this chapter after enduring the nagging from ErebusDusk. Lyrics are by Gary Allan. See Chapter One for disclaimers. "//" indicate italics. Read, review, let me know what you think!  
  
Chapter 3  
  
"Daddy, can I go play with Atari?"  
  
Trip looked up from his Engineering report to his daughter's face "No, Lizzie, ya' can't go play with Atari today."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because ya' didn't make 'yer bed this mornin' like 'yer momma asked."  
  
"You know I didn't have time to make it this morning." Lizzie argued  
  
"Well, ya' would've if ya'd gotten out of bed when I called ya'."  
  
"Daddy, you woke me up a half hour before Ko-mekh does."  
  
Trip sighed, realizing this was going to be a long, drawn out argument. "Darlin', I told ya' this mornin' that I had to be on duty early, so ya' had ta' be up to eat."  
  
"Ko-mekh could have fixed breakfast for me."  
  
"Lizzie, the only reason I woke ya' up early, against yer' momma's advice, was because I promised ya' pancakes last night, and I assumed ya' wanted me to keep ma' promise." Lizzie was silent, and Trip turned back to his report, thinking that she would go off to her room to pout-//Meditate! I meant meditate! Vulcans don't pout.// Then again, on second thought- //Right, and Vulcans don't have emotions either//, he snorted. He returned his full attention to the latest proposal from Ensigns Hussar and Hoosar. Those two were always planning something, and it was because of them that Trip's weekly paperwork was never routine. He tuned out the rest of the world and lost himself in the complex mathematical equations.  
  
Twenty minutes later, the chrono alarm went off. 1250 hours. Trip had to deliver Lizzie to Dr. Phlox for a follow-up exam. She'd had the Vulcan equivalent of a cold last week, and it had kept her out of school on one day.  
  
"Lizzie." He called. He deactivated his PADD and shut down the computer terminal. He hadn't heard her acknowledge his call. Thinking she was engrossed in a book again, he rapped on the doorframe and stuck his head into her room- her empty room. He pushed down a spark of panic. She was probably just in the bathroom. But the bathroom was empty. Her hairbrush wasn't even out of place.  
  
Now Trip let himself feel panic. He did a cursory check of the rest of their quarters, calling her name, not really expecting to find head or hair of his daughter. He paused to think logically for a minute. Lizzie had asked to go play with Atari. That was probably where she'd snuck off to. He hurried down the corridor, walking as fast as he was able. His panic morphed into fear when, upon reaching the Reeds' quarters, he found Atari completing her homework, alone. Where was Lizzie? She didn't have any more lessons today; T'Pol hadn't come to pick her up, she was still on duty.  
  
No longer caring whether it was officer-like or not, Trip ran down the corridor to the small classroom Lizzie took some of her lessons in. The room was empty except for a few bright finger paintings on the walls. She wasn't in the mess hall, the hydroponics bay was deserted, and the only person in the gym-although Lizzie wasn't allowed to go there without an adult- was Travis Mayweather.  
  
Trip made a desperate dash for Sickbay. She had to be here somewhere. But what if she wasn't? He shuddered as he remembered many incidents where crewmen were unable to answer hails, unable to be located. Not his baby, not her. They couldn't take her. Not like his kid sister Lizzie had been taken away. There'd been no trace of her, no body to bury. Try as he might, Trip couldn't suppress the morbid images that came to mind. Eyes filled with dread, he reached Sickbay. He jogged to the farthest biobed, where he heard Doctor Phlox talking to someone behind a privacy curtain.  
  
"Doc!" He called out in an urgent voice.  
  
"Commander?" Thinking that there was a serious emergency, the Denobulan instantly pulled back the curtain to see what was causing the chief engineer such distress, leaving his patient unconcealed.  
  
Trip's heart skipped a beat. There, safe, sound, and contentedly sucking on a lollipop, was Lizzie. A shudder of relief ran through his body. His knees weak, he managed to get to her side, pulling her into a fierce hug. He took in a few deep breaths, taking comfort in the rise and fall of her tiny chest against his.  
  
Having inherited some of her mother's abilities, T'Lizabeth was a touch telepath. And right now, intensely strong emotions were rolling off Trip. T'Lizabeth was confused. Confusion was an emotion, and Vulcans weren't supposed to show their emotions, so this was not very good. Why was Daddy so upset? She'd been at her appointment on time, so Ko-mehk wasn't going to get into a disagreement with him. Daddy wouldn't have to sleep on the couch, as she'd occasionally seen him do, and there weren't any repairs to make at work.  
  
Nearly smothered against her daddy's chest, Lizzie tried in vain to push him away.  
  
"Daddy!" she said, and was ignored. By now, Trip was rocking back and forth slightly. Really, he was trying to get his emotions under control. Lizzie didn't like to see him cry, she always assumed something was terribly wrong.  
  
"Daddy!" she yelled. "I can't breathe!" Her soprano voice cutting through his relief, Trip released her. "What's a matter?" she asked.  
  
Trip was about to say nothing, but then his anger, previously overruled by fear, came bubbling up.  
  
"T'Lizabeth Marian Tucker!" He exclaimed, "Why on Earth did 'ya leave our quarters without my permission?"  
  
"Because you wouldn't let me play with Atari after my homework was finished!"  
  
"Ya' knew ya' weren't allowed to go play today, 'cause ya' didn't do what ya' were s'possed to this mornin'." He replied right back.  
  
"And I told YOU that-"  
  
"Enough!" Trip, recognizing his sudden outburst as a warning sign for a full-blown explosion, quickly bit his tongue. He ignored the surprised look on his daughter's face and turned to Phlox, who had been watching with concerned expression.  
  
"Doc, is T'Lizabeth done?" Trip asked.  
  
Phlox nodded his head, "Yes Commander, she showed no sign of a relapse."  
  
The Chief Engineer gave a curt nod. Then he set T'Lizabeth on the floor and, taking her by the hand, led her out of Sickbay.  
  
Trip kept a firm lid on his anger, barely acknowledging passing crewmembers, until the doors to their quarters had swooshed shut. Not trusting himself to speak just yet, he pointed to the couch and gestured for Lizzie to sit. She complied, still confused.  
  
"Lizzie," Trip said, no longer controlling his emotions. "Why in heaven did ya' leave our quarters without ma' permission? I told ya' not to go play with Atari."  
  
"But I told you why I didn't make my bed!"  
  
"Excuses doesn't mean yer' wrongs are just forgiven." Trip said in an exasperated voice. "Sometimes there's punishment involved."  
  
"But I //told// you-"  
  
"No!" Trip was fast losing control, and his stubborn five-year-old daughter wasn't helping matters. "I told you what ya couldn't do! It's not up for debate!"  
  
No longer in control, Lizzie did a very unwise thing. She shouted, and used the "L" word. "There's no logic-"  
  
"Don't ya' go quoting logic ta' ME!" He yelled. Lizzie winced. She could count on one hand the number of times Daddy had yelled at her. She'd heard him yell, but it was quite different when one was on the receiving end. Feeling her eyes starting to tear, Lizzie did a very unwise thing next.  
  
"Ko-mehk always uses logic when you-"  
  
Trip didn't have to hear the end of the sentence to know what was coming. He snapped like a twig in a drought. He suddenly got right in her face. "Yer' not yer' momma!" he yelled. "And I'm one a' yer' parents too. Yer' s'possed ta' listen to what I say, not Surak or logic. If ya' haven't noticed, Surak wasn't the father of a disobedient five year old!"  
  
He might as well have slapped her, for the effect his brash words had. Tears spilling over and running down her cheeks, Lizzie abandoned her Vulcan heritage and rallied behind her human side.  
  
"I hate you!" She screamed. Then she dashed into her room, making sure to close the door.  
  
At his daughter's words, a knife was suddenly plunged into Charles Tucker's heart. It went deeper than even Lizzie's death had. His little girl hated him. Dolefully, he let himself collapse on the couch, exhausted.  
  
* * *  
  
Trip had entered a light doze, when the call from Engineering came in: core power fluctuations in major systems. He had to be down there now, he couldn't afford to wait for T'Pol to come home. He knocked on Lizzie's door, to let her know he was leaving. But he got no response. He told her anyway.  
  
"Lizzie, I have ta' go ta' Engineering. Yer' mamma should be home soon, but ya' can go ta' Phlox if ya' need him, or call Ensign Cutler." He said. He still got no response. Sighing, he laid his hand on her door briefly, then was gone.  
  
* * *  
  
The power fluctuations had resulted in a minor overhaul of the energy distribution net. Being Chief Engineer, Trip had worked the overhaul straight through. Normally, an overhaul could take two days, with the entire department working around the clock. Being minor, it cut down the time to about twenty hours. Commander Trip's team, being Commander Trip's team, was able to get the overhaul done four hours sooner than projected. Much of the crew worked the overhaul straight through, while others, in dire need of sleep, and taken a break in the middle. In the end, Enterprise's crew had pulled off the overhaul in a little over fourteen hours- definitely a record. Tucker hadn't left Engineering for another two hours, wanting to get his Engineering back in order.  
  
In the end, Trip didn't get home until 0600 hours. The Captain had given him and most of Engineering the day off, so he allowed himself a long leisurely shower to relax. All the shower did was remind him of what Lizzie had said last night. She hated him. His little girl hated him. He'd been hated before, it was nothing new. But this time it was his only child. Was he a bad parent? Maybe he should have let her go play with Atari, but if he had done that, she wouldn't have learned her lesson. What he shouldn't have done was yelled at her. He should have kept his emotions in check, given her a fair punishment for disappearing, and held his tongue. He'd called her disobedient. Really, she wasn't anywhere near that. Sure, she argued a lot, but that was to be expected from such a precocious five-year-old -especially a half-Vulcan one. After all, there was a difference between refusing to get undressed and wanting to know why you had to take a bath.  
  
Sighing, Trip dried himself and put on his pajama bottoms. He checked the chrono: 0645. It was about time to wake T'Lizabeth. He quietly padded over to her room, wanting to see her asleep before she joined the land of the living. His attempts were blundered when he found a tent of sheets and blankets on her bed. He couldn't help but smile. //Guess she wasn't tired enough at bedtime.//  
  
He lifted one side and found her curled up with his old teddy bear.  
  
"T'Lizabeth, time to get up." He said, rubbing her arm. She gave a slight moan, but otherwise didn't stir. "Lizzie, wake up." This time she flung an arm over her eyes to block the light. Trip smiled again. Even if she hated him, Lizzie was Daddy's Girl; neither one of them liked mornings. "Come on, Baby Girl. Bright and shine." This time her eyes opened. She smiled at him and Trip's hopes rose, but then she remembered the events of the day before, and turned away from him. He winced, thinking she must have been taking lessons from her Mother.  
  
"I am displeased with you." She said. Trip sighed, knowing this wasn't gonna go smoothly. "I know ya' are Lizzie." He said. "I'm sorry I yelled at ya' last night." His only response was for her to cross her arms in a pose of defiance, although it wasn't very effective when she was laying in bed wearing her pink and blue teddy bear nightgown. "Darlin', I didn't mean ta' yell. But I was upset, and I wasn't in control." His only reply was a moody, "Obviously."  
  
Now what? What else was there to do? He asked her as much.  
  
"Lizzie, what else am I supposed to do? I said I was sorry, an' I told ya' why I yelled. Don't know what else ya' expect." Lizzie gave no outward reaction to his plea. He waited a moment, but when it was apparent he wasn't going to get anything else out of her, he stood up and started to walk to the door.  
  
"You said I was disobedient."  
  
He turned around. "What, honey?"  
  
"You said I was disobedient." She sat up and looked at him. "I'm not bad, am I Daddy?"  
  
That guilt came cruising back to Tucker faster than Warp 4.9. He went back over to her bunk, dropping his head.  
  
"Aw, Lizzie. I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean it. Ya' just had me so made with all yer' arguing. Heck, I was upset already, and gettin' inta' it with ya' just made all my control go out the airlock."  
  
Lizzie crossed her legs in front of her, having no sense of modesty like most girls her age. She thought for a moment, remembering the bad emotions Daddy was feeling yesterday. They were all jumbled up, but now she tried to separate them...and failed miserably. The one thing she knew for certain, was that Daddy had been really scared. And he had been thinking about Aunt Lizzie and how she died.  
  
Thoroughly confused, her curiosity won out.  
  
"Daddy, why were you scared when you hugged me in Sickbay?"  
  
Trip was caught by surprise. He gaped at her a moment, until he remembered she'd inherited her mother's gift of touch telepathy. Damn, now what was he gonna say? He didn't wanna frighten Lizzie. Well, he'd always kept a policy of honesty, might as well uphold it. He gave a sigh and built up his nerve.  
  
"I was afraid because I was worried to death somethin' had happened to ya'." He said quietly.  
  
"Why would some thing have happened to me?"  
  
"I didn't know where ya' were," he replied. "And there have been too many times where members of the crew have just disappeared, where friends and family have been suddenly killed." He looked up at her, to find her big blue eyes glued to his. He confessed, in a low voice Lizzie had to strain to hear, "I don't know what I woulda' done if ya'd been one of those people."  
  
Lizzie just stared at her father, suddenly understanding. He'd been scared for //her//, he'd been relieved when he found her safe in Sickbay, and he'd been thinking about Aunt Lizzie because he thought she was in danger. All of those feelings, they were because of her. She'd made Daddy upset.  
  
She was crying before she even knew tears were running down her face. She launched herself into Trip's arms, and he eagerly received her, holding her tight.  
  
"Daddy," she said between sobs, "I'm sorry I scarred you."  
  
"Shhhhhh, it's alright now."  
  
"I didn't mean to upset you. I shouldn't have left without telling you." She cried. "I don't want you to be sad again, like you used to be when Aunt Lizzie died."  
  
Trip almost gasped out loud. How in the world did she know about that? That had nothing to do with telepathy. He hadn't meant for her to find out about that, at least not so early. She shouldn't have to be burdened by his emotions. Feeling tears prick behind his eyes, he pulled Lizzie onto his lap, rocking her as he whispered calming words into her hair.  
  
"Hush now darlin'. It's all right. I'm not scared anymore."  
  
Hearing the tremble in his voice and feeling hot tears on her head, Lizzie pulled away, looking up into his face.  
  
"What's a matter, Daddy?" she asked, reaching up to wipe the tears from his face. The tears upset her, they didn't belong on Daddy's face.  
  
Trip blinked a few times, getting himself under control. "Nothin' honey. I just love ya' so much, I can't help it."  
  
She pondered his face for a time, then seemed to accept his explanation, leaning back into his chest again. Father and daughter stayed this way for a time, until both heard T'Pol getting ready for the day and realized what time it was.  
  
Lizzie gave a final sniff, then pulled away from Daddy's embrace. Running his hands over his face, Trip stood up, about to leave the room and let his daughter dress herself. "Daddy?" he heard her call, and turned around. "Yeah, Lizzie?" "I don't have to go to school until 1000 hours because the class was going to the arboretum for a field trip. Can we make chocolate chip pancakes?" she asked, putting on a hopeful face. "Sure thing." He said with a smile, and turned to go get the hotplate ready. "And Daddy?" he turned again. "Hmmm?" "I don't hate you anymore." Trip's face split into a Southern sunshine grin. Giving his only child a wink, he left the room.  
  
//Scared me to death//  
  
When you took your first steps//  
And I'd fall every time you fell down//  
  
Your first day of school, I cried like a fool//  
  
And I followed your school bus to town//  
  
Well I didn't cry, when Old Yeller died//  
  
At least not in front of my friends// * * *  
  
Trip put down his report on the energy distribution net overhaul and checked the time. 2000 hours. He found Lizzie in her room, reading a PADD with her faithful teddy bear. Stopping in her doorway, he interrupted her.  
  
"Lizzie, time fer' bed." He said. She read for a moment more, then turned off the PADD. She settled herself in her bunk, and then looked at Trip expectantly. Flashing a quick smile, he tucked her in, dropping a kiss on her forehead.  
  
"No tent tonight?" he asked. Lizzie gave him a funny look, one of those "Why would I do an illogical thing like that?" looks, then shook her head.  
  
"No, I don't need one tonight."  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
"Because tonight you're here, so no aliens are going to attack and come into my room and hurt me." She said, matter-of-factly. Trip was caught off guard for the second time that day. All he could do was look at his daughter for a minute, until he was able to speak again. Then his face split into a grin as he leaned down and gave her a hug.  
  
"Love ya' Lizzie"  
  
"Love you too, Daddy."  
  
"Sweet dreams, darlin'." And he turned off the lights, turned off his work consol, and dropped onto the couch, holding an old picture of Lizzie to his chest.  
  
//But when tough little boys grow up to be dads//  
  
They turn into big babies again.//  
  
Author's Note II: You've read it, so please take a minute and let me  
know what you thought. Bluntly honest reviews are appreciated, I'm  
not made of glass. Thanks! 


	4. When I Grow Up

Author's Note: Since all of you were so kind as to review, I finally got out another chapter. "//" denote italics, since I have no idea how to get those to show up on fanfiction.net. As for the reviews: 1.) This chapter is all T'Pol. Hopefully those who called for her will be satisfied with it. Let me know how my characterization was, T'Pol makes me nervous. 2.) I've reformatted Chapter 3 so it's easier to read. (Evil fanfiction.net formatting!) I've also corrected Chapter 2. If there are any mistakes in this chapter, let me know. 3.) To A. Windsor: Don't worry, we'll get to older T'Lizabeth. It should be a ball when she's a teenager! Review, let me know how this chapter was!  
  
Chapter 4  
  
//Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:  
  
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
  
And I can-"//  
  
T'Pol was interrupted by a small hand on her arm. Looking up, she found her four-year-old daughter looking at her expectantly.  
  
"Yes, T'Lizabeth? Why are you not in bed?" she asked.  
  
"I can't sleep." Said the little girl. T'Pol marked her place and closed Hoshi's borrowed book. Hogwarts would have to wait.  
  
"What is keeping you awake?" she asked patiently.  
  
"There are bald monsters with big ears and pointy teeth in my room." She said. " I need Daddy to scare them away."  
  
T'Pol felt the impulse to raise an eyebrow, but controlled herself. As she and Charles had agreed, it was more productive to treat T'Lizabeth's adolescent concerns seriously rather than belittle her. Yet T'Pol could not control a thread of annoyance at Charles for introducing their daughter to the concept of monsters, nor the story of the pirates who had almost abducted key members of Enterprise's crew.  
  
"He is at work right now. Do you not remember him saying goodnight to you and leaving after dinner?"  
  
T'Lizabeth pursed her lips in concentration, trying to make her sleepy mind cooperate. Finally, with a disappointed expression, she nodded. "But Daddy is the only one who can scare the monsters away." She continued. "You can't do it. You don't have the magic touch."  
  
At that, T'Pol's eyebrow did rise. "The magic touch" must have been supplied by Charles. She wasn't sure she agreed with the idea of their four-year-old repeating personal phrases, regardless of whether or not T'Lizabeth was too young to understand the double meaning of the words. With unfailing patience, T'Pol challenged her daughter.  
  
"What do you recommend be done to rectify the situation?" she asked.  
  
A look of concentration came over the little girl's face again, and T'Pol's face quirked in amusement when T'Lizabeth stroked her chin, as Charles was wont to do when he was concentrating. They both needed to be careful, as T'Lizabeth was in such a phase of emulation. If they weren't, she might one day try to shave like Daddy.  
  
T'Lizabeth had reached a solution. "What if I stay out here with you until Daddy gets home?"  
  
"He will not be home until morning, T'Lizabeth. You cannot wait for him all night." She replied gently.  
  
"What if I stayed out here with you, until the monsters left?" she persisted.  
  
Intrigued with where her daughter was going, T'Pol asked, "How long do you believe the monsters will stay?"  
  
T'Lizabeth shrugged. "As long as they want to." Such simple logic, it could only have come from the mind of a child. "They'll probably have to go home when it's their bedtime."  
  
T'Pol looked down, taking a moment to hide her amusement. Considering, she decided that, since she had no classes tomorrow, she would indulge T'Lizabeth. She gave a nod, and the small child disappeared, only to return moments later with her quilt from Grandma Tucker.  
  
She climbed up into her Ko'mekh's lap, and snuggled against her comfortably. T'Pol's arms went around her, and mother and daughter sat in silence for a time, simply enjoying the moment. But then the inherent curiosity of all four-year-olds surfaced.  
  
"Mehk," she asked quietly, "why is Daddy always smiling and happy and you are not?" She pushed herself up to look at her ko'mehk. T'Pol was stunned by her daughter's blunt question. The tactlessness and innocence of the young was astounding. Organizing her thoughts, she focused on giving T'Lizabeth an answer she would understand. Not being raised strictly as a Vulcan, it was difficult for T'Pol to give her understanding. How could she explain the violent, primal emotions Vulcans kept in check through extreme control? She was much too young to have the cycle of Pon-Farr explained to her. And how would she justify Charles' displays of emotion without sounding condescending? Perplexed as she was by her dilemma, a drawled male voice echoed through her mind, //Keep it simple.// T'Pol nodded to herself. That was her husband's advice on many occasions, especially when jury-rigging repairs. Taking in a breath, she focused herself on the searching face of her daughter.  
  
"I am Vulcan, T'Lizabeth, and your father is human." T'Lizabeth afforded her a look of indubitability. "I know THAT." She said. "I meant, why do you act so different?"  
  
Naturally, T'Lizabeth was not going to accept a straightforward answer. She would have to elucidate.  
  
"Vulcans prefer to control their emotions and not show them to others."  
  
T'Lizabeth pondered that statement for a few moments, until she found fault with it. "But you show emotion with Daddy. I've seen you smile before, but you're just sad most of the time."  
  
T'Pol regarded her daughter for a moment. She was quite content with her life. Her job was satisfying, the work was challenging, her husband was especially pleasing, and her daughter was a gift she could not imagine living without. How had T'Lizabeth arrived at the conclusion that she was not happy?  
  
"Daddy is always smiling, or being mad or happy or sad. But you don't do those things a lot. At the Christmas Party, you didn't seem happy. You looked...not good."  
  
The older Vulcan was quiet for a minute, thinking how best to reassure her daughter. "Just because I do not laugh aloud, does not mean that I am not happy, or that I do not find things amusing. Vulcans do not demonstrate amusement or happiness regularly, but it is there."  
  
"But why do you keep it inside Mehk?" she asked persistently.  
  
"It is the Vulcan Way." T'Pol said simply. Seeing her daughter's uncomprehending look, "You will understand far better when you are older." The little girl made a face and resigned herself to the fact, trying to be patient. Believing the conversation to be over, T'Pol relaxed, only to have her child continue.  
  
"But why does Daddy laugh and show what he feels?" she asked.  
  
"Humans in general do not keep their feelings to themselves. Most things are displayed for others to see."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It is easier for them to communicate."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Then can more accurately judge the mood of the person they are talking to, and can decide how to best approach a situation." T'Lizabeth was confused. "If Aunt Hoshi acts mad, Uncle Malcolm knows not to tease her about her latest target practice. Instead, he can praise her for her improvement or suggest ways to improve her score next time."  
  
"How do you know how to talk to someone?"  
  
"Through experience."  
  
"How do you get that?"  
  
"Through years of talking to other people. When I first became the first officer on Enterprise, I was not attuned to the moods of my human colleagues. There were several disagreements that could have been avoided if I had taken human emotionalism into account." T'Lizabeth again pondered, but seemed to find no fault in what she had been told. She cuddled back into her mother's side, and peace reigned once again. Then T'Lizabeth sat back up. Her face was troubled.  
  
"Ko'mehk," she asked, "I am both Vulcan and Human. Do you want me to act like you or like Daddy?"  
  
T'Pol froze, starring at the tiny elfin child wordlessly. Then her eyes swept to the family portrait on Charles' desk. She and Charles had had this conversation, but had never reached a decision. The closest they had come was agreeing to raise T'Lizabeth with both Vulcan and Human customs. She could hardly make the decision now. And what about Charles? He was supposed to be here when this conversation was had with their daughter. Both of T'Lizabeth's parents needed to be involved in the decision. She glanced back at the four year old, who still had a distressed look on her face. //What would Charles say?// she thought. Then the answer came to her. She knew what her husband would say. It was a lesson he had taught her a long time ago, long before the Expanse, when she was still ruled by her Vulcan convictions. That lesson had resulted in a series of radical changes and decisions in T'Pol's life, changes and decisions that were the reason for her current life. To think that she had ever turned up her nose at Pecan Pie, a dish that was now among her favorite desserts. Conceding to the past wisdom of her husband, she repeated what he had once told her.  
  
"What do you want to do?"  
  
T'Lizabeth regarded her closely, not understanding her ko'mekh's intent. "What I want doesn't matter." She said slowly. "I want to know what I am supposed to do."  
  
T'Pol hid her smile at the familiarity of the conversation. //How similar to me her reaction is//, she thought with amusement.  
  
"T'Lizabeth, deciding to be Vulcan or Human in behavior is an important decision, one that cannot be made in a single evening. It is also one that neither your father nor I can make for you. You must follow your heart, and do as it tells you."  
  
T'Lizabeth rolled this new freedom of choice around in her mind, still not fully grasping the implications. Such importance placed on such an obscure concept was beyond her comprehension, although she was trying extremely hard to understand, judging by the bunching of her eyebrows.  
  
"You will not understand it tonight, Daughter. Rest now and we will talk more in the morning." T'Pol said as she pulled T'Lizabeth back down and covered the two of them with Grandma Tucker's quilt. For a time, she was not sure T'Lizabeth's speeding mind would calm enough for her to fall asleep, but presently she heard the even, deep breathing of unconsciousness. Despite feeling relieved that the four-year-old was asleep, it was a long time before T'Pol's mind relaxed and she was able to fall asleep.  
  
* * *  
  
Commander Tucker had left Engineering early. There was nothing left to do, and it was his day off anyway. And besides, R.H.I.P: Rank Hath Its Privileges. It meandered down the corridor, in a good-natured mood, to his quarters. Punched in his code, and then stopped just inside the door. He was treated to a tender sight. T'Pol and T'Lizabeth were wrapped up in his grandmother's quilt in his lounge chair. They must have been there all night. Silently, he took two steps to his desk. Locating his camera in a drawer, he pulled it out and focused in on his lovely ladies. He took three shots, for safety's sake, and then put away the camera.  
  
He walked to the chair and gently picked T'Lizabeth up in the quilt. T'Pol's arms tightened around the child instinctively, but he calmed her and she relaxed. Carefully, he pulled back the rumpled blankets and put his daughter to bed. He lingered over her, face peaceful in sleep. He smiled, and then left the room.  
  
T'Pol had curled up in an attempt to compensate for the loss of heat. Trip scooped her slight frame into his arms and carried her off to their bed. Once there, stripped and tucked them in, his arms automatically going around her as she nestled into his embrace.  
  
"Love 'ya, darlin'." He whispered.  
  
T'Pol smiled in her sleep.  
* * *  
A/N: Concerning reviews: honesty is the best policy. I'm only happy when I'm picked apart. Thanks for reading! 


	5. Sometimes Late At Night

Author's Note: First, I've given up trying to write in Trip's accent. As Peter Simons said, it's exhausting to both read and write. Second, I apologize for not updating sooner. The inspiration bug just wasn't biting, and when it was, school demanded my attention. I'd like to post another chapter soon, as I have another idea lurking in the recesses of my mind. Any other ideas, please send them my way.  
  
Response to reviews: Peter Simons (thank you for reading, and for the support!), englishchik (my portrayal of T'Pol may no longer be accurate, with this Trellium addiction of hers), trick of the light (here they come!), Dyslexic Moaner (sorry for the inaccuracy, thanks for pointing it out), JadziaKathryn (T'Pol's answer sounds a bit familiar, considering the end of Season 3), Midnight Dove (glad you liked the song), PurpleYin (thanks for the positive review!), EyeCandy (I wasn't going in any particular order, the age discrepancy wasn't a typo. I can be unorganized that way), The Libran Iniquity (I'm honored you took the time to read this, being the gifted writer that you are), A. Windsor (thanks for the review!), Exploded Pen (glad you liked it), plumtuckered (I'm so glad you like her. I wasn't confidant about my original character skills), and to all the others who've kept up with this!

* * *

Tough Little Boys: Chapter 5 7-7-04  
  
Trip shut down the PADD with a satisfied sigh. He'd been working for two evenings straight, but he was finally caught up on paper work. Ah, paperwork: the bane of his existence. He was an engineer, not a deskbound admiral! Efficiency or not, Trip had never understood the need to waste time writing reports the Captain was only going to skim through anyway. It was a battle he'd been fighting since the Academy, for all the good it had done. He thanked his lucky stars for T'Pol though. Without her, he wouldn't have had the patience to get through the back work. Actually, because his beautiful wife had been home the last few evenings, he'd been able to get her input (usually a separate step within itself) and get ahead on a few reports. Guaranteed, he'd be behind again by the end of the week, but that wasn't the point.  
  
He turned his head to T'Pol and smiled. She was curled up with her folded hands under her head, a peaceful expression on her face. Unable to resist, he reached out and gently brushed a lock of silky hair from her face. He rolled back over and clicked off the light, carefully moving to a comfortable position under the covers; he didn't want to wake her. She's been spending long hours helping Lizzie with her science project, black holes, and as a result was up well into the night to finish her own work. Trip smiled affectionately and edged closer to her. She hadn't complained once, not even an impatient question or command. And that Vulcan stamina was no match for being First Officer and Science Officer, wife to Charles Tucker, and mother to an insatiable six year old. He marveled at her dedication. If only he could match half the amount she showed.  
  
Continuing to watch her, his heart was suddenly overwhelmed with love, so much that it hurt. This was the mother of his child- his _children_. Impulsively, he reached out and laid his hand on her stomach, rounded in pregnancy. They had agreed to leave the child's gender a mystery until birth. This had upset T'Lizabeth, who had wanted to know now whether she was going to get a little brother or a little sister, although she was impartial to a little brother, as Daddy was currently outnumbered. Trip had only smiled and told her that the best gifts were surprises.  
  
Trip didn't care either way. He was caught up in the feelings of being a father again. While he'd be thrilled to have a son to be Charles Tucker IV, he couldn't imagine anything better than a pair of girls to dote on. Besides, he wouldn't be missing out on anything with girls. Just last week he'd taught Lizzie how to throw a football, and what an arm his little girl had! At this rate, she'd be captain of the Academy football team. That is, if Lizzie wanted to be in Starfleet.  
  
He and T'Pol had made a conscious effort NOT to push Lizzie in one direction or another. T'Pol's mother had been in Security, and T'Pol had been—how did she put it—_strongly encouraged_ by both parents to pursue the same career. T'Pol had put aside her own scientific aspirations, until she was unable to function in security any longer. Trip had been free to choose his own career, without pressure from his family. Both of them felt their daughter-their children- deserved the same right. Thus, difficult as it had been, each model of a starship had been balanced by a microscope and each trip to engineering had meant a tour of the science labs. Lately, Lizzie's own preferences had emerged. Her Christmas list (a conversation Trip had had with T'Pol early on in their courtship) had included a Klingon ceremonial _d'k tahg_ knife—a weapon her Ko'mekh had gently explained was not permitted on a starship—and color changing skin for camouflage. A visit to Doctor Phlox, for an explanation of why changing one's skin pigmentation was inadvisable, was called for after T'Lizabeth's own attempt using finger paint was thwarted. That left a phase pistol and self defense lessons from Uncle Malcolm. Trip couldn't figure out where this interest in security and stratagem had originated, unless Malcolm had been filling her head with battle tactics behind their backs. Then again, Lizzie always _had_ enjoyed fireworks...  
  
Suddenly, T'Pol opened her eyes.  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." Trip said quietly, gently caressing her cheek.  
  
"You did not wake me, your offspring did." she said, gently needling him.  
  
Trip grinned at that. She gained a measure of satisfaction from blaming the pregnancy on him, as if he were the only one to blame. He'd reminded her on several occasions that it took two to tango, and generally these reminders took place well after Lizzie was in bed. "No one ever said Tuckers were easy to live with." He teased. T'Pol only raised an elegant eyebrow, her look plainly suggesting that this was a widely-known fact. Trip smiled and pulled her in close, spooning their bodies together, his hands still on her stomach.  
  
"I can't wait for him or her to get here, T'Pol." He said. "I love you and Lizzie with all my heart, and I'm gonna love this one just as much."  
  
"Undoubtedly." she said. "I am often amazed by the human capacity for love in general, and by yours in particular. There was never any doubt of your affection for the child." He glanced down at her, and saw that telltale lift at the corners of her mouth. He smiled in return and settled himself next to her again with a happy sigh. 

& & & & & & &

A few hours later, T'Pol awoke. Gently easing out of Charles' embrace, she slipped on her periwinkle robe. On the way to the lavatory, she passed T'Lizabeth's room. The light was on. She peaked into the room to find her daughter on the floor, her collection of art supplies scattered about.  
  
"T'Lizabeth," she said, "It is very late. You should be in bed." The elfin child whipped around, not having heard her mother enter.  
  
"I was making something for the new baby, Ko'mehk." She said, holding up her project. It was a conglomeration of popsicle sticks, yarn and colored puff balls, all pasted together to form an intricate figure. At six years old, the meticulous nature of the arrangement was admirable. But, not at 0300.  
  
"That is a very creative gift for the baby," T'Pol praised. "And I am sure it will be appreciated. But you should not be up at this hour."  
  
"But Mehk, if I go to bed, I won't be able to finish my gift."  
  
"You still have a number of months before the baby arrives. The gift does not have to be finished tonight. Besides, your new sibling would not want you to be tired on its account. Come," she said, "back to bed."  
  
T'Lizabeth quickly put her paints away in their box and placed her gift on top of her shelf with the utmost care. Taking one final look at it, she got back into bed and pulled the covers up, waiting for her Ko'Mehk to tuck her in. T'Pol efficiently completed the process, and then gave her daughter a quick embrace before deactivated the lights and closing the door.  
  
After completing her ablutions, she slipped back into bed beside her husband.  
  
"Everything alright?" he mumbled, only half conscious.  
  
"Our daughter seems to have received your thoughtful streak." She said.  
  
"That's my girl." He said, before drifting off.  
  
In the darkness, T'Pol allowed herself to smile. Charles had no idea how much that thought pleased her.

* * *

Well, what did you think? Please, let me know! 


End file.
